


To Pennfield

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin spend their holiday at Arthur's family's country house. Which would Merlin would detest if not for the fabulous bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Pennfield

They'd originally thought about going on holiday to France. Paris, specifically, since they'd never been together and Merlin had been longing to visit again. The bookshop couldn't afford that many trips overseas for purchases, so it would have to be for pleasure and not business. Convincing Arthur hadn't proven to be as difficult as expected and Merlin had even started to construct an itinerary, made up mostly of museums he wanted to visit and restaurants he thought Arthur would enjoy. Scribbled itineraries, on the back of envelops and sales slips, stuck into travel guides Merlin had borrowed from the shop. He'd planned to leave the booking of train tickets and hotel rooms until Arthur and he agreed on which weeks between spring and summer would be most convenient.

That, Merlin reflected and cursed at the unfamiliar ceiling, was where he went wrong. What he ought to have done was gone through Arthur's datebook, blocked off a free few weeks, and done the bookings for their holiday immediately. They'd have been in Paris by now, away from the hassle of their lives in London.

Not that London was looking so bad at the moment.

There were museums in London, and quiet, sidewalk cafés, and the Indian takeaway down the road from his flat where he could get a really nice vegetarian curry along with Arthur's favorite chicken tandoori. Also, the only member of Arthur's family that permanently resided in London? Arthur. Which was about all Merlin could handle of the Pennfields for an extended length of time. Not that he didn't love Arthur - he did, and foolishly suspected that he had in some way since they met - it was just harder to love Arthur's family.

Merlin let out a tired sigh and turned to check the clock by the bed. Only ten minutes had passed since he'd woken up to find Arthur out of bed already and though it was criminally early, only quarter past seven, Merlin could tell he wasn't going to be falling asleep again this morning. The morning air was cool and quiet, the stillness foreign enough from morning in the city that it felt wrong, as if time and place had skewed without warning and left Merlin behind. Arthur had left to go running about an hour ago and would probably want a shower when he got back. Maybe sex, too, Merlin thought wistfully. He could definitely face breakfast if he was able to have a shower, sex, or possibly both, with Arthur, previous to joining the rest of the family for the first awkward meal of the day.

That was one benefit of spending their holiday out in the country, Merlin supposed. He and Arthur rarely got up at the same time, except occasionally on the weekend. Merlin pushed back the dismal thought that they could be in Paris, waking up together, and having amazing Parisian morning sex, and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Which, by the way, was _ridiculous_. Everything at Pennfield House was ridiculous. The first time Merlin had stayed here, he'd had to text Arthur's mobile to ask his boyfriend to please come rescue him and direct him through the labyrinth of _objet d'art_ filled corridors back to his bedroom. The only reason he hadn't gotten lost on the grounds was that he hadn't braved them on his own yet, instead opting to read outside when it was warm until Morgana dragged him off for peculiar country house pursuits like croquet or lawn tennis.

At least Arthur's father had finally yielded and had arranged for them to stay in the same suite of rooms this time. Their sprawling, luxurious, completely ridiculous suite of rooms, which, because it was Arthur's, had the most fabulous, most unreasonable, most luxurious bathroom. Merlin was pretty certain the fixtures in the bathroom cost more than the entire contents of the one in his and Arthur's London flat. The bath towels were absurdly soft and fluffy, the hot water for the waterfall shower was endless, and both he and Arthur would fit in the bath together comfortably.

(Though, _possibly_, Merlin might have had a hand in the hot water not turning lukewarm. Possibly. Magic worked in mysterious ways and sometimes absurd ways itself.)

Right. So, the ridiculous bathroom was another benefit. He couldn't, however, spend an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom. Not since Arthur's step-sister - Morgana - had discovered him in there, reading a mystery novel from the bookshop's paperback exchange box, and told him that if everyone else had to deal with family holiday gatherings, so did he now that he'd as well as married Arthur, and as a result, his oasis of momentary quiet had been lost.

"Merlin!"

Merlin closed his eyes and let the spray of hot water fall over his face. Arthur's voice had the demanding tone that indicated he'd need Merlin to solve some problem for him, a tone that had become so familiar over the past five years they'd been together. After a few seconds, Merlin pushed the shower door back and blinked the water out of his eyes. "They're in your shaving kit."

The Honorable Arthur William Pennfield, first and only son of Lord Pennfield, stopped rummaging through the medicine cabinet to glare at Merlin. "What? Where are -"

"In your shaving kit. Your allergy tablets."

"Don't _do_ that."

"Do what?"

Arthur waved his hand. "Use magic to predict what I'm going to ask you. It's _weird_."

"I don't need magic. You're completely predictable." Merlin rolled his eyes. Water was starting to drip down his fringe into them again and steam was billowing from the shower into the room. "Also, your eyes are red. Get in the shower before it gets worse."

Arthur huffed at Merlin, or, at least, Merlin assumed he did. He'd pulled the shower door back shut and waited while Arthur did more rummaging, let out a violent sneeze, and undressed before stepping into the shower. He washed quickly and only after Merlin had rinsed shampoo from his hair and had rested his head back against Arthur's shoulder did he talk.

"Were you in here sulking?"

"Of course not."

"You're barely awake." Arthur reached around Merlin to do something clever with the shower so that hot water spilled around them more copiously, steam billowing again in great clouds. "I thought you'd still be in bed, really."

"Disappointed?" Merlin pressed his back against Arthur's chest and gave a murmur of approval when Arthur slipped his hands around to stroke Merlin's chest.

"Surprised." Arthur was quiet for a moment and his hands stilled on Merlin. "Don't sulk. We're still on holiday."

"Yes. In _Pennfield House_. Your family's ancient pile." The spite he'd managed to summon up in the days preceding their trip to the country melted with the hot water and Arthur's touch on his body. Merlin nudged his hips back against Arthur's firmly enough to feel the slow pulse of arousal start inside him.

"It's not so bad." A kiss brushed the nape of Merlin's neck, Arthur's mouth wet and warm, and another a few inches below the same spot, just at the top of his spine. "It'll be ours someday, you should learn to love it a little bit at least."

Mouth still on Merlin's neck, Arthur's left hand slid over Merlin's to finger the ring he wore and to move his hand over Merlin's until the band he wore clicked against Merlin's. Platinum. Plain. _Permanent_. He'd worn it for three years already and not once during those three years had Merlin ever thought of what came with it aside from the life he and Arthur already had. Their flat, the bookshop, Wednesday night take-away, Arthur's _pro bono_ finance work, how Merlin would do the marketing on the weekends, and Arthur would work at the shop so Gaius could have those days off.

"Ours?" Merlin tangled his fingers with Arthur's, tightly.

"_Ours_."

"Make me like it a little more, then."

Arthur brought his hand back to Merlin's chest and stroked him again, slowly, lightly, tracing a line down Merlin's sternum with his knuckles. Even with the water against his skin, Merlin could feel how careful Arthur kept his touch for these first moments, like he was still trying to work out what pulled the sigh from Merlin's chest.

"You like that?"

"You know I do."

Arthur brushed the back of his hand against Merlin's stomach again and hummed thoughtfully against Merlin's neck, interrupting himself with a few kisses at the sound of another sigh from Merlin. "Sometimes... I feel like I don't. Know all of you."

"Nothing left to know." Merlin spread his hand over Arthur's, laying it flat against his stomach, and let the water fall over both of them for a few seconds.

"A few things..."

Merlin turned in Arthur's arms, blinked the water out of his eyes that still insisted on dripping down from his fringe, and with a brief glance over his shoulder, did something more clever than Arthur had to the water to stop it from hitting Arthur in the face.

"Like that," Arthur murmured and leaned in to kiss Merlin on the forehead, the tip of his nose, and then on the lips. "Still brilliant."

"Not so much of a mystery." Not really, no, not something intricate that needed to be untangled and taken apart. Whatever enchantment ran through Merlin didn't mystify him and he'd never made himself a mystery to Arthur.

Arthur was the only person he'd ever opened himself up to like this, the only person who'd seen light fall from his fingertips and books stack themselves with a raise of his eyebrow. Only Arthur, who knew how to and was allowed to kiss him in that wonderful possessive way. Only Arthur, who'd never tried to truly own Merlin. When he kissed Merlin on the mouth, water running between their lips, Merlin could feel it in his kiss, in the way Arthur's tongue teased at Merlin's bottom lip before pushing into his mouth: the possession and knowledge he barely knew he had.

But he _did_. All the knowledge of self that Merlin could possibly share, and the inexplicable delight that came with knowing he had all of Arthur that Arthur could give, all the last moments of his youth and the courage and understated generosity that would last beyond his youth.

Merlin twined his arms around Arthur's neck to hold him close, then closer, one hand at the back of Arthur's neck, thumb brushing along his hairline, when he groaned into Merlin's mouth. Or, perhaps, it wasn't so much of a groan as a chest-deep sigh, low and rough with desire, more breath than voice. He drew away from the kiss enough to take a breath, yet remained near enough to Merlin to exhale into the space between them and immediately after to kiss Merlin again.

Long, open-mouthed kisses, made up of hot water and sighs between their lips, Arthur's hand at the small of Merlin's back, pushing his hips up against Arthur's, and Merlin's hand tangling into Arthur's hair as he pushed back. This wasn't their usual half-asleep, half-lazy weekend morning sex, but a more frantic grasping for the place where knowledge and desire came together, to want to know each other and this place, this ridiculous, ancient, wonderful place, that would be theirs, where they'd map out their lives and years.

Merlin eased his grip on Arthur's hair at another groan, his own this time. His lips slid from Arthur's for a half-second before Arthur's teeth caught at the bottom lip and tugged him back in for a last kiss.

"Turn around."

Hands braced against the shower wall, water flowing down his back and over his sides in rivulets, Merlin exhaled shakily. Behind him, Arthur fumbled with the collection of bottles on the shelf and cursed under his breath when he knocked one of them over. Then, the sound of a flick of a bottle top, one of Arthur's approval, and a soft hiss of pleasure as his cock brushed against Merlin's arse.

He just rubbed against Merlin for a while, hard and ready, teasing, and then, before Merlin could gasp or beg or even look over his shoulder at Arthur, he pressed his oil-slick fingers inside Merlin. Two at once, stretching and loosening him, sliding in and oil, fingertip to knuckle, to tease Merlin again. But this sort of teasing Merlin liked, Arthur inside him, searching out all the places in him deeper than any secret or mystery, dragging hoarse need from the back of Merlin's throat.

Merlin gathered what magic he could to keep himself steady and to keep the coil of arousal tight inside him, to hold onto it a little longer. His body tightened, too, around Arthur, around the force and pain of being filled so suddenly.

"All right?"

"Don't... don't stop."

Arthur smoothed his hands up and down Merlin's sides, a gesture that was almost soothing, save for the shiver it sent through Merlin that threatened to dissolve the last, tense thread of control he had over his body. Arthur's hands settled at Merlin's hips, gripped sharply, painfully, _permanently_, Merlin knew. Knew that as well as he knew Arthur and he knew himself.

Knew it as well as he knew that driving need inside him, the one that had him wanting the ache of fullness and the sharper one of Arthur's fingers digging into him. Sweat and water blurred Merlin's eyes, and, god, if he could hold onto this moment, keep time from grasping it away from him, so the ache and burn could fill him throughout the whole day, he would.

Not wanting to lose any of the contact he had with Arthur, Merlin brought one hand to his own cock, palming himself roughly, thinking the whole time of how each thrust brought Arthur closer and deeper, how Arthur's hands marked him with intricate, indelicate comprehension. He came, spilling over his own hand and into the hot water swirling at his feet, body shuddering, and shuddering again when Arthur angled his hips up to meet a deeper thrust. Satisfaction edged towards the ache that filled Merlin and he clenched around Arthur, pushed back against him, and gave a final shudder to feel Arthur still before his own climax.

~

"Told you that you'd end up liking it here."

Warm, drowsy, with the bath towel and Arthur wrapped around him, Merlin nuzzled in against Arthur's hair. He could sleep now, for hours and hours, Arthur's fingers stroking his chest, and only wake up once it was time to get ready for lunch. "Like this."

"You like my bathroom. You _love_ that bathroom," Arthur murmured against the shower damp skin of Merlin's neck, his own skin still damp under Merlin's fingertips. "You spent ten minutes telling your mum about it last night."

"Did not."

"Mm... you were _enraptured_."

Merlin arched up off the bed with a stretch and a great, satisfied yawn that started the pit of his stomach and went through his whole sex and bed warmed body. He rubbed his face into Arthur's hair again and nudged his foot against Arthur's in reply to the pleased sound he elicited from Arthur. "Should write you a little poem."

"Oh, no. I'm commissioning a real poem. About the house."

"Thou art not, Pennfield... not just an ancient, ridiculously huge pile of rocks."

Arthur laughed, breathy and deep, and slid his hand down to finger along Merlin's ribcage, tapping gently against each rib until he found the ticklish spot and had Merlin laughing and twisting away from him. "There needs to be a long section about your noble patron."

"My _noble patron_?" By the time Merlin escaped the tickling, Arthur's hand had slid down even further.

"And scion of the Pennfield family." Arthur kissed Merlin on the shoulder, warm lips and warm skin, and kept kissing while he stroked over Merlin's stomach. "Paragon of virtue; pillar of the community."

"We are still talking about you, right?"

"Quiet, Merlin, or I'll make you a kept poet. Your book selling days will be over." He raised his head from Merlin's shoulder to kiss the corner of his mouth, his lower lip, to let Merlin return those kisses to his own parted lips. The palm of his hand rested warm over Merlin's hip, thumb rubbing circles over the place he'd bruised in the shower, reminding Merlin what he'd already handed over to Arthur for keeping.


End file.
